


Look It's Almost Morning (Baby Turn Your Collar Up)

by auroreanrave



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Betrayal, Cabin Fic, Dark, Geographical Isolation, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3725965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auroreanrave/pseuds/auroreanrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oberyn is a secret agent with his gone-rogue previous lover Sam in his captivity and a mystery to solve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a weird mashup/genre idea I had, and is about the secrets we keep and the lies we tell to the people we love. Contains mention of violence and/or death, but is not explicit and does not take place in the 'present' narrative, as well as no torturing.
> 
> Title comes from Betty Who's 'High Society'.

Oberyn's had better days, that's for damn sure.

He's had bad days, of course; the Prague mission where he spent two full days hunkered down in the catacombs of a church, feeling rats crawl over his feet and eating nothing but mission-issued protein bars in order to capture a rogue extremist posing as a monk. Monte Carlo wasn't too good either. He's never touched tequila or been near a racecar since.

This mission has been truly awful, however. Not that it's been uniformly terrible from start to finish; the beginning had been nice and innocuous enough - go to Montepelier for an energy conference, to observe and report and steal if necessary. It had even been in a Hilton, for God's sake. Oberyn has had pedestrian cases in his past, but even that was a little much.

Things had begun to spiral from boring to bad, from then on. Largely thanks to the appearance of Oberyn's one-time lover, the boy who broke his heart, appearing on the arm of Ramsay Snow. Known terrorist and renowned psychopath Ramsay Snow. His target.

Sam Tarly had been one of the agency's best and brightest technicians; a rising star in the agency with a propensity for geek references and a bright mind, someone Oberyn shouldn't have fallen for but did. Sam was a good person with a kind heart.

And then Sam had betrayed them all, disappearing in the dead of night and reappearing on the other side of the world with Roose Bolton's security detail around his arm, leaving behind heartbroken friends and angry colleagues, and a despondent Oberyn who buried himself in work and refused to mention Sam's name.

"Take me back," Sam said from his position on the other side of the car, in the passenger seat. They were driving, cutting a path through snow-sprinkled roads that wound a path up towards the Green Mountains, towards a safe house Oberyn knew was there, well-maintained and warm and quiet. "Oberyn, please, just take me back - "

"To your boyfriend? Don't make me put the gag back on." Oberyn snarled, hand going reflexively to the wad of black cloth that had served as Sam's gag during his kidnapping. He'd only removed it when Sam had fallen asleep a couple of hours into their drive. He had hoped he wouldn't have to replace it.

"Oberyn. You don't know what you're doing." Sam's voice was deceptively calm, pleading, his hands clasped together in a mockery of a prayer, plasticuffs encircling his fleshy wrists. Oberyn had vivid memories of those hands. What they had done to him, all those months ago, and how he had craved it. He still craved that touch now, even more than the months of angry, self-induced celibacy had induced.

"You're lucky I'm not making you ride in the trunk."

"You're right. I am. But I am telling you, you need to turn around, and let me out of this car."

"Or what? Your boyfriend will bring down an attack squad down on me to rescue you? He's seen what I can do to him and his goons."

"He is not my boyfriend. Far from it."

Oberyn snorted. "One thing I will grant him, Sam. He's made you a better liar than you used to be."

"I am not lying to you. Oberyn." Sam's eyes were wide. Trusting. Too trusting. Oberyn turns his full attention back to the road. It's cold, even with the old thermostat in the car cranked up to full. He's looking forward to the big fireplace, and to letting his bones rest. To letting his mind rest, and to allowing his world to stop spinning.

"I don't even care, anymore. Arryn can throw your ass in the pit for all I care." Oberyn pointedly kept his eyes on the road ahead, which was becoming more and more obscure, thick flakes of snow covering the path.

Sam settled down in his seat, eyes flicking back and forth from Oberyn, and an unhappy, sad set to the mouth Oberyn desperately wanted nothing more than to kiss.

* * *

 

The cabin was one of the agency's best safehouses in the entire north east. Far away enough in the hills that fracture out onto the Green Mountains, it's quiet, peaceful, and fitted out for some surprisingly comfortable living. Agents usually spent weeks here, and thanks to psychological evaluations, they had fitted it out nicely in order to stop cabin fever.

Oberyn carried Sam out of the car, and straps him into a chair, placing him right into the centre of the lounge. His wrists and ankles were bound with plasticuffs, and Oberyn made sure to keep his eyes away from Sam's face. Being emotionally compromised is what lead to this damn mess in the first place. He doesn't need the risk of it happening again.

The snow is falling heavy now, and Oberyn paused by a window to take in the descending flakes. The radio equipment in the cabin was top-notch; he hoped it wouldn't be affected by the snowstorm incoming from the north.

Oberyn opened the laptop, accessing the terminal with his designated user ID and password, and opening up the chat to Command. He closed the door, in case Sam was listening, and began.

"Charlie-Charlie-Sierra, come in. This is Oscar-Mike-Oscar, reporting from M-V Station. Authorisation code Foxtrot-Yankee-November-November." Oberyn whispered into the microphone, and the blank blue welcome screen in front of him.

A bubble opened on screen, seconds later, a face emerging from it. Tired, overworked, and apathetic to a fault, Jon Snow looked a mess. He looked, Oberyn ventured, like he needed a good meal, a good night's rest, and a good fuck, in that order.

"Oberyn. A pleasure as always. I take it from the hubbub at the hotel that you were the one to cause some trouble for Ramsay Snow."

"What can I say? I'm a philanthropist."

Jon snorted. "Sure you are. Seven of Ramsay's guards killed in a mysterious explosion in a warehouse three blocks away. Ramsay stabbed and beaten to the point of hospitalisation, and even one of his personnel kidnapped. I hope you were at least smart enough to - "

"Jon. The personnel is - damnit, it's Sam."

Oberyn watched as what little colour left in Jon's face melted away, a flush of shock giving way to anger and raw pain. "The fuck? Did you fucking kidnap him?"

"He's been on Ramsay's arm for the entire conference. Every dinner, every meeting, every drink at the bar. If there was anyone likely to spill the secrets of their boss' dirty little terrorism threats, it was him. It was nothing personal."

"Like fuck it wasn't. Where is he?"

"In the other room."

"Did you hurt him?"

"No more than I had to."

"If you tell me you've fucking tortured him, I swear by the old gods and the new - " Oberyn recoiled a little at Jon's rising anger. He'd never been on the end of it personally, and it was proving itself to be pretty fucking scary, even if he'would never admit it.

"No. He's fine. No more than he - " Oberyn paused on the word, reined it in, "more than he deserves. He betrayed you, Jon. He betrayed all of us."

Jon sighed, anger filtering into annoyance, and he leaned closer into the camera. "This is way beyond my fucking paygrade, but first of all, you touch Sam, I will personally destroy your life from the safety of my lab. Seriously, I can. Secondly, in the words of the favourite of my exes: you know nothing. Not about this."

"What are you even talking about? Jon, what - " Oberyn started, but suddenly the screen froze, catching Jon mid-blink, and it dissolved into wintry static. Oberyn tapped the screen, then tried loading the call again. The wifi was down, maybe for a few hours, Oberyn realised.

Oberyn leaned back in his chair, and looked forward in order to view the backyard of the property. The snow is several inches thick. He'd already checked the pantry; enough food and drink and provisions to last five agents a whole winter. They'll be more than okay for a few days.

He doesn't even like the snow, not really. Oberyn was born to stay in the sun. His summers were filled with sunshine and laughter, of scorching heat and warm skin. He wants to get away, to leave his life behind.

Oberyn wanted to leave his apartment, with its boring designer furniture, and its cold walls, that have seemed even colder since Sam left. He wanted to run away, to escape his job, his life, to find that sun again, feel its healing rays on his scarred back.

But he can't. Not yet, anyway.

He's going to find out everything he can from Sam. No matter what it takes.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens and the truth blurs with lies...

Sam slept for a couple of hours, in front of the roaring fire, until Oberyn woke him. The fire had needed building back up again, and the chimney had required checking, but Oberyn's really just killing time. The cabin is in pristine condition.

"Oberyn... please. Can I use the bathroom?" Sam asked, wide-eyed, eyes blurry with the rudely-awoken.

"Sure." Oberyn padded towards Sam, socked feet light and soundless against the hardwood floors. He began dragging the chair backwards towards the bathroom. The legs made an uncomfortable sound against the hardwood floors, but Oberyn keeps moving.

"I meant - please, I'm sure you can trust me to - "

"I don't trust you full stop, Sam." Oberyn continued to drag the chair backwards until both of them, and the chair, were inside the bathroom.

"Here." Oberyn leaned forward, knife blade in hand. He cut through the ties at Sam's wrists and ankles and leaned back against the closed bathroom door, knife light and ready in his hand. Sam massaged his ankles, cursing under his breath as he stood, shakily, and moved to the toilet to urinate.

They had shared more intimate moments, Oberyn remembered, than this. He and Sam had dated - if that was the best term to use - for almost nine months. Oberyn had adjusted to Sam's occasional snoring, his late-night Tumblr searches, his low days; in the same, Sam had taken onboard Oberyn's history, his self-directed anger, his unusual quirks.

Oberyn had opened up to Sam one evening, Sam curled around him, hands protectively around Oberyn's middle, about Elia. About her disappearance, about his efforts, about the false leads, and old hopes growing placid over the years. Afterwards, Sam had kissed him and made Oberyn have a shower, Sam in the bathroom doorway, and Oberyn had known that he was in love.

"Are you finished?" Oberyn asked. Sam zipped up his flies and nodded. "Good. Back on the chair please?"

Sam turned to face Oberyn, pleading. "What am I going to do? Attack you in your sleep? Use my kung-fu?"

Oberyn turned his face away, as Sam reluctantly took his seat on the chair once more. "I don't know what your boyfriend has taught you. I would rather not find out."

"He hasn't taught me anything, and he's not my boyfriend." Sam looked up, twisting as far as he could, as Oberyn applied a fresh set of ties to Sam's wrists and ankles. Oberyn places them on fresh areas of skin. He just doesn't want an infection. He doesn't care about Sam's discomfort at all. "I thought you knew me better than that."

Oberyn looked at Sam coldly. "So did I, Sam."

Sam didn't find it in him to protest as Oberyn dragged him back through the bathroom doorway.

* * *

 

"I've got an order from Director Mormont." Jon said, his voice crackling a little through the web call. His expression was dour, as usual, but he looked morose. Oberyn had placed Sam out of sight once more. He didn't need Jon getting emotional.

"Clearance code?"

"Seriously? You've never asked for them before."

"I am asking now."

"Fine. Clearance code Sierra-Alpha-Sixer."

Oberyn nodded. "Thank you. What's the order?"

"He's setting up a conference call in six hours. He wants to speak to Sam personally."

"I can handle an interrogation solo, if he wants."

"It's not an interrogation."

"Then what is it?"

"It's... it's something beyond your paygrade, Martell. I only know because I need to."

Oberyn flushed with anger. He considered throwing the laptop across the room, feeling the visceral, temporary flush of anger displaced with the shatter. He paused. "And I don't need to know?"

"You will. Soon enough." Jon said. Oberyn felt the rage rise again, like gathering steam.

"Fine. See you in six hours." Oberyn closed the call, shut down the laptop, and moved to the dining table. His fingers stopped shaking five minutes later.

Sam watched him from across the room. He looked concerned, and it hurt Oberyn to even think about that. "You need something strong. Sugar in your tea."

"I'll put the gag back on." Oberyn said. He didn't mean it, not really. It felt good to even talk to Sam. Something he could have done from the start. Too late now.

"Why did you go, Sam?" Oberyn asked.

"I can't... I cannot tell you. Please, believe me when I say that if I could, I would."

Oberyn strode across the room before he even realised he was doing it, dropping into a crouch right in front of Sam. "Tell me. Please. I'll let go of your bonds. You can have a shower. Have something of your choice to eat. Anything."

Sam smiled, wry and sad. "I do still love you, you know."

"Don't fucking lie to me." Oberyn stepped back, thumbs tucked into his palms so that his fists wouldn't actually do any damage, would stop him from hitting anything. He's a hurricane.

"I'm not. I've never lied to you, Oberyn. Not even once. Not even," Sam chuckled, "not even about that movie you made me watch."

Their second 'date' - Thai takeout in Oberyn's sterile apartment, watching Netflix - and Oberyn had picked out some Swedish film he'd loved, full of bright lights and shadows and dark comedy. Sam had watched it and then been honest, if kind, suggesting something else. Oberyn had fucked him not long after.

"Then I guess we'll find out the truth." Oberyn said, raising himself up from his crouch, to stride back across to the kitchen. He had spied steak in the fridge, and vegetables in the pantry, and he needed something to take his mind off it. Off Sam.

"See you in six hours then." Sam said, sadly. And for a moment, Oberyn thought Sam sounded sincerely sad about everything. Just as sad as Oberyn felt.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's mission is revealed, and Oberyn finds something he was looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken a while, but I've been working on other stuff for a while and wanted to make sure this received a new chapter update. The final chapter will be online within the next few months. Hope you enjoy! :)

* * *

The feed came through slowly at first, then all of a sudden, clear as a bell.

Sam had slept a little more, and Oberyn had examined the pantry, digging through frozen packs of mystery meat and instant mashed potatoes to find the fresh vegetables in their clear plastic packaging. He had made a salad, eaten, changed his clothes, and all whilst checking that Sam was still asleep.

As the feed cleared on the laptop screen, Oberyn could see Jon, to one side of the screen, and in front of them, Jeor Mormont, immaculate in his Savile Row suit and snow white beard, Oberyn might consider most of their service incompetent, but Mormont had always been someone he'd admired.

"Martell."

"Mormont - I mean, sir."

"I hear you've captured someone of interest."

Oberyn looked across to Sam, barely hidden out of the angle of the laptop's webcam. Sam stared right back at Oberyn.

"I have. A rogue asset of ours. Samwell Tarly."

Jon stiffened in his seat, shifting as if to try and see Sam, despite the angle of the camera on Oberyn's side. Oberyn rolled Sam into view, pulling on the back of the swivel chair he'd deposited Sam into.

Jon smiled instinctively, before settling his features into cool neutrality. Jeor didn't notice, or pretended not to, steadying his gaze on Sam.

"Agent Tarly."

"Sir. Glad to see you're doing well."

"And you. In the circumstances, lad. I hope Martell hasn't been too tough on you."

"Sir," Oberyn interjected, angrily. "He's been in the employ of Ramsay Snow for - "

"Eight months and four days. I am aware of that, Martell." Mormont said. "I should know. I'm the one who sent him there."

Oberyn took a step back, eyes on Sam who studiously kept looking at Mormont.

"What have you learned?"

Sam took a deep breath, shakier than Oberyn could have imagined. "Ramsay Snow has weaponised anthrax-loaded missiles in three different sites across the country, with at least four more reserve stockpiles of ammunitions, weaponry, and explosives. I've implanted six of the missiles with the tracking chips Jon and I made up a few months ago."

"Does he suspect you?"

"He didn't. I worked my way into his circle by working on his IT security. Saved him a couple of times when he got drunk at a casino and beat the spirits out of three security personnel. After that, he seemed to warm to me. Promoted me to the head of his team, then his own personal tech guy." Sam sounded, briefly, as if he was no longer addressing his station chief, but instead Oberyn, the one briefly becoming warm and familiar.

"That explains why you were with him at a bunch of meetings." Jon added, a smile creeping into his expression. Sam returned it.

"He knew I was loyal - or rather, he strongly believed that I was - and when he got drunk, he used to vent about his father. I could relate; kept it this side of professional while divulging some,,, personal stuff."

Oberyn knew. He hadn't read into Sam's file, hacked into whatever catalogue of information that they stored at the service, hidden away in neat little password-protected folders. Sam had mentioned it one night, Oberyn's fingers drawling swirls in Sam's back.

"Could we reintergrate you? Back into Ramsay's loyalties?"

Sam frowned. "I'm not sure. I've been missing... however long. How bad was Agent Martell's rampage?"

Oberyn flinched. "It was not a - rampage."

"You kidnapped an undercover operative and killed a handful of Bolton guards, let's not call it a stroll through the Water Gardens." Mormont cut in, bluntly. Oberyn's head spun and he collapsed bodily into a chair.

"Tarly, we'll be sending evac to your safe house. They'll drop you off in Oldtown. There you can contact Ramsay and try and make a connection."

"Sir, they might not believe me."

"They will. You were just kidnapped by an unstable operative with designs of romantic revenge, you escaped. All we need is you to reach one of the Bolton compounds with the weaponised missiles so that we can hit them and capture Bolton and Ramsay before they can escape or use them." Mormont paused. "I'm proud of you. For all you've done, Tarly."

"I... its nothing, sir. Thank you sir." Sam nodded. Mormont returned it, and moments later, the connection dissolved into static.

Silence hung in the air.

Finally, Sam said, low. "If it's alright... could you cut me loose so I could use the bathroom? Please?"

Oberyn sliced through the restraints and moved to the other sid of the lounge, staring at his own hands, unable to meet Sam's gaze. He remembered his own words - You've become a better liar, Sam - and until that moment, had not realised just how he right, and how wrong, he had been.

   


* * *

   


The transport came an hour later. In the sixty minutes that preceded it, neither Sam nor Oberyn had attempted to speak. Sam had wandered into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich, and Oberyn had watched him go.

The sound of the truck's horn outside startled Oberyn out of his reverie. Sam moved to stand by the door, the thick jacket he'd had on when Oberyn had taken him around his shoulders, and Oberyn moved to cage him in at the wall by the door.

"Oberyn. What's wrong?" Sam, steady and calm, even as Oberyn leant in, his forearms pressed at either side of Sam's head. This tension between them; heavy and warm and insistent in Oberyn's gut.

"I - I would have hurt you. I would have. You left and you took everything and - and I was so angry at you. I searched the world for you." Oberyn didn't meet Sam's eyes, gaze fixed on the pale patch of skin from where the top of Sam's shirt had ripped open in the fight.

"You'll understand why I did what I did. I promise you will." Sam said. He pressed a kiss to the crown of Oberyn's forehead and moved, Oberyn standing back to let him open the door and close it behind him.

Oberyn left the cabin the next morning, a scribbled resignation letter in his bag.

   


* * *

   


At his apartment, three days later, there was a hesitant knock at the door.

Oberyn opened it.

Outside; Elia, tired and thin and carrying a baby on her hip.

Oberyn dragged them inside and cried, and Elia gave him a message, a crumpled piece of paper with Sam's handwriting.

_I hope you understand why I did what I did. I will always love you._   



	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are returned and maybe things can begin again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! More of a relatively short resolution chapter to close out this AU story and to explain the Elia reveal in Chapter Three. Hope you guys enjoy!

Three weeks pass.

Oberyn spends a week inside with Elia and baby Aegon. Jon Snow arrives, three days in, to give Elia a new passport and identification, the keys to an apartment not far from Oberyn's own. He doesn't ask about Sam, even though the questions burn on his tongue, and Jon doesn't offer any information.

He spends too much time drinking, and watching re-runs of bad TV shows, and then returns to work after two weeks when Elia tells him to. He starts running again, and spends every morning with Elia in Starbucks, listening as she discusses her new job and Aegon's school, his hand always in his sister's.

Oberyn hears of the deaths in the Bolton camp through work. They ignore his resignation and the three that come after it, returning each one in embossed stationery. Jon confirms that Sam had been extracted earlier, in a safe house in a different continent while they searched the bodies, interviewed Bolton's wife. Ramsay Snow's body, riddled with bullets, floats in a river, and Roose Bolton is found skinned alive in a nearby forest. Oberyn doesn't tell Elia.

Then, on the Wednesday night after he returned to work, to cover paperwork and finalise some minor details, Sam knocked on the door to his apartment.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, blushing. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes and his hair limp and sticking out in all directions, as if he'd slept in an unnatural position - or rather as if he hadn't slept at all. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are ringed with dark circles. "I couldn't tell you. Any of it. Not because I didn't trust you."

Oberyn's speechless. He stepped aside, letting Sam in. Sam looked tired, and older, and Oberyn wanted to press against a wall, against his couch, to bury his face in Sam's neck and -

"I don't understand," Oberyn said, instead, picking at the edge of a hangnail on his thumb.

"I knew that Roose Bolton had had connections to the human trafficking trade so I started investigating. Turned out around the time of Elia's disappearance, several crates of Bolton's arms were shipped out of the country. I tracked the packages and found Elia in a safe house, kept safe for Roose's personal use.

"After that it was just... well, simple. Send an anonymous cyber attack to threaten Roose's online black market trade, forcing him to switch attention to that. Mormont sent in a squad led by Ygritte to rescue Elia and several other dozen women kept at the safe houses. She was cleared a couple of days before..." Sam trailed off, losing the propulsive steam of his argument, sputtering to a stop. His cheeks were flushed crimson.

"I only did it to keep you safe. In case it all went wrong, they couldn't trace anything back to you." Sam whispered, the words pulled out of him by their roots. The air was thick was the unspoken tension, the mistrust lying heavy over them.

"Why?" Oberyn asked, his voice raspy. He felt tired, as depleted as he'd not felt in years. "Why do all this?"

Sam blinked in genuine surprise. "Because I love you."

Oberyn strode across the apartment before he could acknowledge it, and pushed Sam into the door frame, and kissed him. Sam's hands drop the messenger bag he'd been holding onto, and they move to Oberyn's neck, his cheek.

They broke apart, moments later, forehead to forehead.

"We need to talk." Oberyn spoke, resisting the urge to push Sam towards the bed, the couch, to a flat surface, and to reclaim. Both of them needed time and space and to talk.

Sam nodded. "We do."

And so they sat, on Oberyn's couch, and let every ache and pain and trauma, every betrayal and injury and fear, trickle and flood free, for hours, until the sun began to turn pink and it all became lighter, if not better. Until it became _something_.

And it was almost a beginning again.

And it's not until six months later, in a house overlooking the beach, with flowers in Elia's hair and in Aegon's, and with their friends and colleagues splashing in the pool, that Oberyn looks over at Sam, his wrists covered in warm suds as he washes the dishes, that he leans over and kisses him, the sun warm on their faces, and thinks " _We're alive and I will always love you_ " and finally everything is good.


End file.
